


You’re a part time lover (and a full time friend)

by palateens



Series: Lis' Babyfic Bouquet [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Other, Pregnancy, Queer Themes, Recreational Drug Use, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: There’s something about the way he whispers Larissa that makes her want it to go on forever.





	You’re a part time lover (and a full time friend)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garden of succulents (staranise)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranise/gifts).



January 2018

 

Larissa is twenty four the first time she truly regrets stepping into a Target. She goes to the one not far from the Central stop because Shitty doesn’t like hovering around Harvard ever since he graduated law school. She snuck out first thing in the morning while the guys were still asleep. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, they’re her best friends. 

She’s tired, needs to piss, and went significantly out of her way to make this look like a casual shopping trip. No one would know the difference, a random young person perusing the aisles of a Target alone.

The fluorescent lights are harsh for the stunning lack of caffeine in her system this morning. WIthout many customers inside, it doesn’t look much nicer than a Kmart before a burglary. It’s white and pristine, yet somehow dingy.

She glances at the Starbucks when she first walks in, slipping her gloves, hat and scarf into the designer handbag she can’t afford but Holster insisted on buying her with his bonus. They do things like that sometimes, give her the little things she can’t get herself to splurge for. 

The idea of coffee sounds really good with the amount of sleep she got the night before amount to an astounding three hours. She bites her lip, huffing. It sounds nice, but something at the back of her mind thinks  _ ‘what if?’ _ She shakes her head, grabbing a shopping cart to look as nonchalant as possible. 

She does a lap around the store, starting in the women’s clothing section. She talks herself out of a few shirts in clearance. It’s November, so the next time she’ll be able to wear halter tops without being shitfaced is May. ( _ If she can get shitfaced _ floats into her mind briefly.) Her eyes linger on a maternity mannequin. She tugs down on her peacoat, wishing that were enough. 

Maybe the only person she’s fooling is herself. 

She looks through the electronics section, trying to find those headphones Ransom was looking at before Black Friday deals start. Maybe she could be done with her shopping early this year. A thrum of anxiety lies just under her skin. 

On a sadistic whim, she walks through the infant section. She stops in front of the pacifiers, reaching out to run her finger tips against the plastic packaging. Larissa thinks about buying a pair with green butterflies on them. She hesitates for a second before putting her arm down and moving on. 

The onesies toward the front of the section aren’t as intimidating as they used to be. They don’t scream  _ ‘you’re trapped, forever unloved _ ’ the way they used to. Larissa wonders if that’s because she learned a long time ago that there’s more kinds of love in the world than the kind a romantic partner could offer her. 

Larissa makes a pit stop in the beauty section for as long as her conscious will let her. She still needs to piss, remembering from her first scare at nineteen that it’s possible to dilute a test. Part of her wishes it felt like last time, naive and overly concerned with a singular late period.

No, it feels different this time. She doesn't know how she just... _ knew _ , but she’s over a week late and she just felt  _ off _ .

Approaching the feminine care aisle, she notices someone staring at the condoms. She snorts, noting the irony of placing them on top of the pregnancy tests. It’s like Target broadcasting quality assurance. 

“If you’re not satisfied with our condoms, try a pregnancy test at some additional cost,” she chirps quietly to herself. 

It makes her laugh, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She still does a lap around kitchen wares to avoid the other shopper. She comes back when the aisle is empty. She reads over every brand, wondering if it’s worth the extra three dollars to get a digital test. 

Larissa shrugs. She fucked up the last time she took one of these. Might as well ensure that doesn’t happen again. 

She pays for it and a bottle of curling custard for Foxtrot at a self checkout kiosk. She goes straight to the restroom, practically ripping the packaging off along with her jean button. The strip turns pink. So far so good. 

The test takes a few minutes to announce in clear, coherent letters. 

Pregnant. 

Larissa swallows, blinking back nervous tears. She isn’t nineteen with no money and no interest in having a family ever. 

She doesn’t know what to do. All she knows is she feels truly and utterly fucked. 

_/.\\_ 

June 2016 

 

Jack did it. He won the Stanley fucking Cup. 

Lardo’s in a crowded house full of hockey players shouting their asses off. She thinks it’s Marty’s house...or Snowy’s. She can keep up with faces decently enough, but there have been so many back ups and lineys she met today that she can hardly think straight. 

The music is booming, meshing raucously with the buzzing of excitement and joy wafting through every room in the house. She’s whooped Poots in beer pong twice already. Shitty’s somewhere consoling (not subtly flirting with) him. 

She takes a long sip of her beer. Shitty didn’t have his queer awakening until a genderqueer person in a 1L study group made him blush and squirm in a way that no one had ever done for him before. She’s happy for him, really. 

At some point the idea of  _ them  _ became so monstrous and lofting that it felt more like a life sentence than a romance of the ages. 

She takes a long look around the den. Jack and Bitty are cuddled together on a couch, each nursing a beer as they kiss like no one is watching. Ransom and Holster are playing Mario Kart with some of the rookies. Shitty’s in the kitchen with Poots. 

And Lardo’s...well, becoming part of the wall decorations. 

It took her a year and a half to feel like she was really a part of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team. Now it’s taken less than a hour to undo years of certainty and self-confidence. 

Lardo shakes her head, heading toward the wet bar to grab something hard to take the edge off. She isn’t self-loathing, not anyone. She’s just insecure as fuck about the future. She has no idea what to do with her degree, her love life’s in ruins, and her friends are already onto bigger and better things. And she’s just...waiting for something to give. 

The wet bar is bare compared to when they first arrived an hour ago. It’s barely eleven, but everyone’s partying harder than she’s seen in years. She finds a turned over bottle of vodka with at least a double shot left in it. Against her better judgement, she chugs it from the bottle. Larissa sighs, looking for something better to occupy her mind. 

It finds her in the form of an oversized hockey player. 

“Wanting to be more Russian, Larissa Duan?”

She smirks easily for Tater, turning around slowly yet gracefully.

“You wish,” she says.

He smiles broadly at her, free of his usual competitive demeanor every time they’ve met at an after party. He’s Tater reaches past her, grabbing a bottle of gin. He pours a large amount between two cups. She instinctively grabs him the cranberry juice. 

It’s they’re post game ritual. She doesn’t remember how that became a thing, but it reminds her that she isn’t merely a useless tagalong in Jack’s nostalgic entourage. 

“Một, hai, ba, dzô!” they scream at the top of their lungs. 

Tater loses his grip on his crutch. Lardo grabs him by the crook of his elbow. 

“Careful, can’t black out on me this early,” she chirps. 

Tater laughs. “Doctor say no drinking with pain medication. Just for show.” 

“Aw, you wasted alcohol just for me? I’m touched.” 

His smile softens. “Never waste to cheer with you, Lardo.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her drink to hide a blush. 

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Why drinking alone huh?” he asks with a frown. 

Lardo shrugs. “Long day, guess I’m tired.” 

He tsks. “Great player, bad liar.”

Lardo snorts into her cup. “And how’re you doing big guy? Enjoying your victory lap.” 

Tater’s expression falls. She winces. 

“Oh shit, dude I’m sorry—”

“Is ok,” he assures her. “Team won. ‘s what’s important.”   

“They wouldn’t have gotten there without you,” she says, staring into his eyes fiercely. “You know that right?” 

Tater laughs. Lardo recognizes it as the same light, passive sound he makes in interviews when he’s uncomfortable. She might not have noticed it if Jack hadn’t pointed it out a few weeks ago. But now she can’t unhear the uncertainty, the discomfort and loneliness underneath all that joy. 

It makes her realize that she’s not the only person in this room that feels like they don’t deserve to be here. 

She squeezes his arm gently. “Three games, that’s all you missed.” 

Without a second beat, Tater’s hugging her tightly. Lardo gasps for a second, shocked. 

The room melts around them. Everything goes quiet. Suddenly, they’re the only two people in the universe, reaching out to each other in their mutual loneliness. 

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. But when they part, she feels a little less empty. His smile is all she sees. 

_/.\\_ 

January 2018 

 

**Larissa (10:45 am)** :  _ You busy today? Need to see you  _

 

**Alexei (11:30 am)** :  _ Have game at 7 remember? _

 

**Larissa (1:03 pm)** :  _ right, sorry. Forgot _

 

**Larissa (1:07 pm)** :  _ maybe another day _

 

**Alexei (1:08pm)** :  _ what’s wrong?  _

 

**Larissa (1:09pm)** :  _ it’s no big deal _

 

**Alexei (1:10pm)** : _ that’s Lardo-code for huge deal. _

 

**Larissa (1:23pm)** :  _ it’s just...not something to talk about over the phone  _

 

**Alexei (1:27pm)** :  _ I’ll be up tonight then. Tell me then.  _

 

**Larissa (1:38pm)** :  _ ok  _

 

**Alexei (1:40pm)** :  _ (((( <333  _

 

**Larissa (1:41pm)** :  _ <3  ***   _

 

_/.\\_ 

April 2017 

 

Larissa doesn’t go by Lardo anymore. She works as a graphic designer for a major advertising firm because the Falconers have connections. She spends nights drawing on friends’ backs or designing merch for her online store. 

She litters her body in tattoos she can barely afford and piercings her parents always discouraged her from getting. She’s twenty four, but sometimes she has to remind herself that she isn’t living under her parents’ roof anymore. If they don’t like something she does, it’s no longer her problem. 

She colors her hair with all the colors of the rainbow. She wears a binder and old boxer briefs that should probably be updated. Some people ask her if she’s butch, or ask if she’s a trans man. She just shrugs. She’s still figuring it out. She knows she’s queer. That’s enough for now.

She spends her weekends with an NHL player who lets her take the reigns. She fucks him raw in the moonlit comfort of her room. He teaches her a bit of Russian, and she show him how to curse in Vietnamese. She teases every inch of his body, and he gives her the best blowjobs of her life. 

He treats her like a  _ person _ . Not a woman, not an it, just a person. 

He texts her good morning, good night, and how are you every day. 

His pregame routine involves kissing a tortoise necklace she meticulously soldered for him. She celebrates Chanukah, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur with him because he doesn’t have anyone else outside the team. 

She casually invites him over for Tet and he comes with the most enthusiastic smile and gifts for her family. Her parents tell her he’s a keeper. She doesn’t have the heart to tell them they don’t understand. They’re best friends, she thinks. She loves him more than anyone in the world. 

She’s not in love. But she doesn’t think she has to be. They’re perfect just the way they are.   

_/.\\_ 

January 2018 

 

She goes home and spends the rest of the day working on a branding commission for a small arts festival taking place next November. She tries not to think about where she’ll be at that point in the year. There’s money, housing, responsibilities...fucking emotions and stability to consider. 

Larissa sketches until her stomach protests from nausea or hunger...or both. She leaves her room to get crackers and maybe some fruit when the deadbolt on the front door of the townhouse starts to turn. 

Alexei walks through the door, kicking his shoes off and placing them on the rack before even closing the door. He locks the door, noticing her leaning against the wall. His face melts into the kind of grin that makes her heart wrench. Because he trusts her to be the kind of easy friend that makes everything better. She can’t do that today. 

He kisses her chastley before she can finish her train of thought. 

“Little duck outside of cave,” Alexei says pointedly. “Must be very serious.” 

Larissa tries to laugh. It comes out as tears instead. He stiffens before shushing her, squeezing her tighter. His inquiries get more frantic, but she doesn't have the words. She grabs his hand and puts it on her stomach. She thinks it clicks because she gets swept off her feet and carried back to her room. 

Alexei lets her cry herself to sleep. 

_/.\\_ 

August 2016 

 

Tater traces lazy, languid swirls into Lardo’s back. His lips ghost her skin every once in a while. She’s eating edibles at two in the afternoon as he watches. She can’t smoke because he has a drug test to take any day now. 

The late summer air is so thick and humid they’ve been reduced to making in out in their underwear with music playing softly in the background. 

“Best place to get a corn dog? ” she asks. 

“Georgia, very good at deep-fried foods,” he says. 

“Best place for cotton candy?” 

“Food truck in LA.” 

“Best place to ride a roller coaster?”

Tater sits up, chuckling. “This you asking to go to amusement park?”

Lardo smirks, shrugging innocently. “Maybe.” 

“Six flags is open during fall, yes?”

“Yea.” 

“We go someday during preseason, then,” 

She nods before rolling over to kiss his nose. 

“Most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen?” Lardo asks. 

“You,” he says without missing a beat. 

She snorts. “Yea, right.”

“Is true,” he says. 

He kisses her before she can protest. They don’t always agree, but she thinks they’ve already got their own secret language down. It’s wholly naive to think they can keep fucking like they have all summer in between his PT sessions and her job applications. 

But there’s something about the way he whispers Larissa that makes her want it to go on forever. 

_/.\\_ 

January 2018 

 

Larissa wakes up at three in the morning in Alexei’s arms. She thinks about going back to sleep when he kisses her forehead. 

“Hey,” she murmurs. 

“Hi,” he says. 

She nuzzles into his chest. “Why are you still up?” 

“Wanted to make sure you ok. Be there for you.”

“Thanks,” she says, hugging him tightly. 

The road outside is silent except for a few car horns in the distance. Her eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, barely seeing past her own nose. The radiator in her room must be set to high because her throat is hoarse and dry.  _ Radiators are dangerous _ , a voice in the back of her mind informs her. 

“So...I’m pregnant.” 

It’s the first time she’s said it out loud. Somehow, that makes it all the more real...permanent even. 

“What do we do?” Alexei’s groggy voice rumbles through his chest, soothing Larissa in a way she can’t describe. 

“I don’t know,” she says. 

“You want baby?”

She closes her eyes. “I don’t know.”

He nods, not pressing the matter. Sometimes language gets in the way of how they interact. Words get jumbled, confused, and lost in translation. Cultural norms get crossed and misunderstood in ways that sometimes create laughter, but mostly produce confusion or hurt. 

It’s something they’re working through. Larissa can’t believe that’s something she can admit to, working on a casual relationship that means this much to her.

It’s bigger than anything she ever felt for Shitty. But it isn’t terrifying and obligatory. More like amorphous, dynamic, and mildly daunting. 

“What do you want?” Alexei asks for a while. 

Larissa bites her lip, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 

“I wanna keep doing a job I love surrounded by friends I love. I wanna cover my body in tattoos until I look like I should be in the fucking MoMa...I wanna see the world and make beautiful things and maybe be in love with someone who’s crazy about me.” 

She pauses. “Is that ok?”

“Is ok,” he says. 

She puts a hand on his chest, focusing on the way he inhales deeply, steadily. “What are you thinking?”

“Baby counts as beautiful thing, no?”

Larissa chuckles. “Yea, I think so.” 

“So maybe ok if we have baby?” 

“Alexei, I can’t tie you down like that—”

“What? Larissa, you love of my life. Could never tie me down,” he says, kissing her forehead. 

She chokes back a sob. “What?”  

“Thought you knew. I say ‘I love you’ all the time.” 

She looks away from him. “I thought you meant platonically.”

“No. Love you, to moon and back.” 

A tear rolls down her cheek. He’s the most important person in her life. She spent the entire day ignoring the possibility that he would never want to see her again. She never thought about him doing the exact opposite, of wanting to be there for the long haul or wanting her for her and not some fetus. 

“What do you want?” she forces herself to ask. 

“Want to keep playing hockey, have friends I love. Eat in every major city in world. Have a family with the love of my life. Give her studio and house with pond for ducklings. As many ducklings as she want.” 

She pulls him into her arms with fervor. Larissa kisses him like it’s the first day of the rest of her life. Maybe she wasn’t alone before, but she knows that now for sure.

“Is that ok?” he whispers. 

“Yea,” she says. “That’s perfect.” 

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from Anyone Else But You by The Moldy Peaches 
> 
> (it's that song from Juno, in case you were wondering)


End file.
